NO WRITTEN history of Britain in the 20th Century will fail to feature the Jarrow March. Or Crusade, if you prefer its proper title.

Both fit it perfectly. March it was - a near 300-mile tramp by men who, in many instances, could not afford shoes. Indeed, local cobblers on the route often freely repaired the marchers' footwear. Not a few wellwishers offered a change of shoes or boots. Still, the men's feet, like the rest of their hard-pressed bodies, would be sorely tested by the long slog.

Its obvious mission as Crusade was a desperate bid for work: jobs to support Jarrow men and their families. But it meant more than that. It was a crusade for respect, for recognition that they, and by implication all in a similar plight elsewhere, were human beings of equal worth to any in the land. And though it achieved little at the time, with only the outbreak of war, three years after the March in 1936, finally bringing the work to relieve the poverty, it has entered our culture as one of of the defining moments, alongside the Peasants Revolt of 1381 and Tolpuddle Martyrs of 1834, in the emancipation of "ordinary" citizens. The extensive packages of help now put in place following a big industrial shutdown are rooted firmly in the Jarrow Crusade.

Now it is to be revived in a contemporary form. The 200 jobless Jarrow Marchers are to be replaced by 5,000 hauliers, farmers, taxi drivers and coach operators. The self-proclaimed People's Fuel Lobby, they believe their 25mph drive to London from Birtley on November 10, will evoke sympathetic comparisons with the event it copies.

In fact it sullies the memory of that inspiring act against serfdom. For there is no way a motor procession - I avoid the word cavalcade - aimed at cutting the price of fuel, can be compared to a tramp by hungry men to win a decent life for their families.

It might be that fuel duty in Britain is too high. If so, the proportion of tax should be brought down by stabilising the tax until, through normal commercial rises. To actually cut the tax, at least by more than a fraction, would go against the generally accepted need to reduce dependency on motor transport which, apart from its adverse global impact, now blights virtually every community in Britain.

It might be illuminating to know how many of those taking part in the Jarrow Drive face ruin if fuel tax is not cut, as they are demanding. I suspect few, especially among the organisers.

The many vehicles that these protestors are able to mobilise gives them muscle not available to the many others with legitimate grievances. Using power in this way except to redress very serious wrongs can never be justified. And let's not forget, it wasn't because the Jarrow March brought the country to a standstill - which it didn't - that it inspired people and will still be doing so when the People's Fuel Lobby has long since vanished without trace.

MAKING the "culture of secrecy'' the chief villain of the piece, as though it had a life separate from those responsible for it, the Phillips report on the BSE crisis was by no means as devastating as the headlines suggested.

Why was no blame laid at the door of manufacturers who added animal remains to cattle feed? Farmers knew no more of this than consumers knew they were eating virtual sweepings from abattoir floors.

Now the Government has just lifted part of the ban on offal as food, to allow the intestines and a neck gland of young calves to be used. Though Agriculture Minister Nick Brown bangs on endlessly about the new openness, the change, which the Government's own Spongiform Encephalopathy Advisory Committee says poses "a slight increase in risk'', was not announced when made last month.

Is there any government you would trust to sell you a used car, let alone guarantee the safety of your food? Answers to Tony Blair.